"Do You Know Michael Jackson?"

The music was entrancing and the company slightly blurred after four glasses of red wine. But he was talking politics I remember, and I was responding in my broken French. In the background, aside from the music, another person, a son I believe, handsome I know, was chanting to me in Spanish jibberish: "Si, si, si...hola, hola, que pasa?...OUI en ESPANGNOL vous ne parle pas en Français, it's bad I tell you..."
I appeased him with a cracked "Como estas?" because I do not speak Spanish and hardly French it seems. This sparked a rash of laughter. The politics, featuring Hillary Clinton, turned into the unfairness of renting an appartment in France because of "le caution" or the triple deposits that one sometimes must pay. This scared me but I said nothing. He was looking at me the whole time at random because he knew of my failed search for an appartment, and he smirked in a friendly way while eating sausages and discussing with my host why this "caution" deposit is the cause of a lot of homelessness and needyness in France.
The handsome son sat in front of me with his son in his lap and laughed, "You are American...Do you know Michael Jackson?? DO YOU??" Then, bouncing the boy on his knee, added sarcastically, "All Americans know Michael Jackson!"
The cat came into the living room after his banishment outdoors. He slinked up to my feet quietly and hooked my pant leg with one claw and yowled to be petted. The discussion came to a short halt and everyone looked at the cat, his big yellow eyes imploring me.
"Il m'adore," I said, he's in love with me, of the cat as if explaining myself to them.
The smirking man looked at me, amused, covered his mouth as though he was going to tell me a secret and said in English: "Are you sleeping with him?"
I could say nothing at first but I worked up a response, "No I had to tell him that we can only be friends." The man smiled big and poured himself another glass of wine and I had one more as well.
At the end of the night the children were already in their pyjamas and I was feeling a bit warm and sleepy myself. The man announced his departure way after the handsome son said his goodbyes. He kissed me three times on the cheeks, told me to have nothing but coffee with milk, baguettes and wine and to be disgustingly French from now on; to which I agreed.
I had coffee with milk and a baguette for breakfast this morning.